


All That's Left

by blooming_atlas



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Bunker Ending, Bunker Fluff, Depression, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, John comforts the Deputy, Nightmares, Survivor Guilt, The Collapse has come and the Deputy ends up in a bunker with John Seed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-20 21:11:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16563212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blooming_atlas/pseuds/blooming_atlas
Summary: Trapped in a bunker with John Seed the Deputy tries to cope with the knowledge that Hope County is no more. John provides her with comfort.





	All That's Left

The screams of the dying pulled insistently at her, refusing to let her rest. The nightmares were relentless and so, so loud. On the far fringes of consciousness Katherine knew that it was a nightmare, the same nightmare she’d been experiencing ever since Hope County had been bombed to hell. She was tired, so tired; she just wanted to stop dreaming, to sleep, to forget. 

Opening her eyes had pulled her from her nightmarish oblivion before. Why couldn’t she wake up? Fretfully the blonde resisted the urge to scream, trying to find the comfort of nothingness again. ‘ _I’m sorry’_  she wanted to cry. _‘I’m sorry. I failed you all. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’_ **  
**

“Katherine. Come on, Kitten. Wake up.” It wasn’t going to stop. She tried to turn away from the chaos, but something was holding her down. “That’s right, my dear. Open your eyes.” Surrender seemed easier; she didn’t have the energy to fight. Her eyelids felt like lead, but she forced them open, and frowned in confusion at the man who was sitting on the bed beside her. His arms were braced on either side of her, holding the sheet tight; that was what was preventing her from moving.

“There you are,” he said softly. “Hello, Kitten. I was getting worried.” She couldn’t think; everything was fuzzy. Why was John Seed holding her trapped like this? Her confusion must have showed on her face, because he smiled and lifted one hand to smooth her tangled hair back from her face. “Everything’s okay. But you’ve been asleep for a long time, and I didn’t know if it was normal or not, so I decided to try to wake you up. It took some doing,” he added wryly.

“What …? Why are you here in my room?” she mumbled, trying to sit up. He sat back, releasing the sheet, and she struggled into an upright position. It took so much effort that she ached. What was wrong? Had she been sick? The flu, maybe; her bones ached so, that could be the explanation.

But why was John here? A year had passed since the complete destruction of Hope County and Katherine was still not over sharing a bunker with John Seed. But he had been polite…cordial even. A far cry from the man who had tattooed **WRATH** on her chest. It was…almost strange to see him so placid.

“If I had to make a guess,” he said, his voice pitched to a soothing rumble, “I’d say your need for the toilet is critical. Can you make it there?” When he mentioned it, she realized that he was exactly right. She nodded and clumsily pushed the sheet away. He stood so she could swing her legs off the bed.

She didn’t have many clothes on, she thought weakly as she sat on the edge looking down at her bare limbs, but she just didn’t have the strength to care. She tried to stand and sank heavily back onto the mattress. John bent and lifted her easily in his arms. Her head drooped into the curve of his shoulder and neck, and the position seemed so comfortable that she let it stay there. She was too weak and emotionally numb to snarl at him or strike him for touching her. She was too tired to fight.

The air was cold on her bare skin, and the radiant heat of his big body was heavenly as he carried her…somewhere. She closed her eyes. “No you don’t,” he scolded, putting her on her feet. Her heavy eyelids opened and she saw that she was in the bathroom. It was large and lavish just like everything else in his bunker. “Make an effort, my dear. Now, can you manage by yourself or do you want me to stay in here with you?”  _Dick._

She wasn’t so tired that she couldn’t give him a  _“fuck you”_  look, and he chuckled. “I’m fine,” she said, though she heard the fretful weakness in her own voice. She ignored it. She would manage; she always had. Wrath had gotten her this far and she would be damned if she relied on John Seed for help.

“Okay, but I’ll be right outside the door. Shout if you need me.” Giving him one last glare, Katherine stood swaying in the small room after he had left, staring longingly at the bathtub and wondering if she could stand upright long enough to take a shower. It would be so embarrassing if John had to help her, handling her naked body as if she were a helpless infant.

First things first, though. She was very thirsty, but her bladder was a more pressing concern. When that was taken care of, she gulped two glasses of water, then stood with the cool glass pressed against her forehead. Her mind was still so foggy, every thought such an effort. She needed to get herself together, she felt the urgency, but couldn’t concentrate long enough to block out those feelings of guilt. All she wanted to do was sleep. _Blessed sleep._ She didn’t want to remember the fire anymore. She really wanted that shower a lot.

Finally the simplest thing to do was to turn on the water and step under it, clothes and all, so that’s what she did. She deliberately left the water not quite lukewarm, knowing that it would wake her up, not wanting to but accepting the necessity. She stood under the cool spray, her face turned up to catch the full blast, and let the fog dissipate. Let peace return. Let the water overcome and wash away the hot salty tears, the way a flood overcomes and obliterates a trickle.

_Joseph had been right._

Katherine buried her face in her hands, sobs shaking her body. “Katherine… ?” The worried, impatient tone changed at once, became quiet and steady. “I know, Kitten. I know you are in pain. But you’re not alone now. I’ll take care of you.” The water was turned off, and John’s strong hands were on her again, helping her out of the tub. She stood dripping on the mat, her eyes still closed while tears tracked down her cheeks.

“You’re soaked,” he said, still in that soothing, steady tone. “Let’s get these clothes off—” “No,” she managed, the word strangled. “You can’t keep them on,” he chastised, but she shook her head stubbornly. “I’ll do it.” “Are you sure?” She nodded. “Okay. Just open your eyes for me, Katherine, and tell me that you can manage, and I’ll get some dry clothes for you and leave you to it. But I want you to look at me and tell me that you can do it.”

She swallowed, and took two deep breaths to control the tears. When she thought she could handle it, she forced herself to open her eyes and look up at him. “I can do it.” His gaze was piercing as he studied her, then he gave a short nod. “I’ll get your clothes. Tell me what you want.”

Katherine tried to think, but nothing came to mind. “I don’t care. Anything.”

“Anything,” left to his decision, was a pair of shorts and a cotton robe that smelled faintly of him. While he waited outside, she stripped off her wet clothes, clumsily dried herself, then dressed in what he had provided. She was rubbing her wet hair with a towel when he decided she had had enough time, and opened the door again. “Here, I’ll do it,” he said, taking the towel from her and putting down the lid on the toilet for her to sit down.

She did, and he carefully blotted all the excess water from her hair, then took the comb and smoothed out all the tangles. She sat there like a child, letting him minister to her, and the small attentions gave her a comfort she’d never had before. Numbly she realized that what he’d said was true: She wasn’t alone this time. John was with her. He had been there after the bombs dropped, and he was still there, taking care of her, lending her his strength when she had none.

“What time is it?” she finally asked. Mundane thing, but the small and unimportant were the anchors of life, the constants that held one steady. Time may not have mattered much underground, but she needed to know. 

“Almost one. You need to eat; come on in the kitchen and I’ll put on a pot of fresh coffee, then fix breakfast for you.” She remembered his shitty coffee-making skills and raised her head to give him a disgusted look. “I’ll make the coffee this time.” John accepted the rejection of his coffee with good grace, being used to it. She was coming out of it; she could say anything she wanted about his coffee. She was more alert, though her face was utterly colorless, except for the shadows under her eyes, and the soft glow of her hair.

He put his arm around her waist to support her as they slowly made their way to the kitchen. She leaned against the cabinet while she made coffee, then sat and watched John competently assemble a meal of toast, bacon, and a scrambled eggs. She ate a couple of bites of egg and bacon, and one slice of toast. John ate the rest. When she crumpled, without a word he scooped her onto his lap and held her while she sobbed in his chest.

_I’m here._

**Author's Note:**

> I was in the mood for some Soft!John and decided to write this. Don't worry, Rook's friends made it to the other bunkers scattered throughout Hope County, but she's in a bad place and John just wanted to show her some love. Anyways my tumblr url is blooming-atlas so give me a follow if you wanna' talk!


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